


Where Power Lies

by thedemonstherapist



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst, Duelling, Female Reader, Gen, I have little to know Idea what to tag this as, Magic, Obey Me OC, Oneshot, Platonic Relationships, Reader-Insert, Tension, Worldbuilding, female oc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25049500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedemonstherapist/pseuds/thedemonstherapist
Summary: “Something has changed in past months. There where magic grew, opened its flowers to kind travellers and offered the fruits of your search, there is now discontent and spoiled amity.The forest has been overtaken by one who doesn’t know how to deliver on the promise of returning its favours. So here you are, in search of him, unaware of who Solomon’s guests may be tonight”.
Relationships: Asmodeus/Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Platonic! Barbatos/OC, Platonic! Barbatos/Reader
Kudos: 10





	Where Power Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. Well, I certainly didn’t expect this to turn into such a long, complex piece, but. Wow. I loved writing this, every second I spent frustrated was so worth it. If you can’t tell, I absolutely love descriptions. I understand if this isn’t for everyone, as romance isn’t the focus of this piece, but I hope some people still can enjoy it. 
> 
> Songs I recommend: Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake // Burn the Witch by Shawn James // Nina Cried Power by Hozier ft. Mavis Staples // Bottom of the River by Delta Rae // Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene by Hozier

The woods aren’t as safe as they used to be. 

You’re not suppose to be here, that’s what they tell you. Trees whisper caution with each breeze that rustles their leaves, casting their mossy judgement over your figure. Shadows dance across your path, a flurry of acting friends that tell tales of shortcuts and rarities to find. Eyes peek from crevices at the corners of the trail, following your slow descent into the mysteries you didn't come to investigate. The scent of rotting berries encases you, luring you closer with a foul promise of fulfillment and release. 

Only the moon guides your way, smiling upon you as a sister, a mother and friend. She’s never meant you harm, and she will not be thwarted by the threetops inching together as you approach, casting her specks of light upon the forest floor. 

You know these woods. You know not to look into the burrows near overgrown stones, not turn when someone calls your name too cheerfully. You know to give back when you take, to move quietly as to not disturb the ones that rest beneath your feet. You know every inch of the ground and what’s hidden underneath, you know how high each plant grows and what lives in harmony with them. The woods are your second home, your protective grounds, your habitat. You will care for them with your life, it is all you’ve ever been made to do. 

But something has changed in past months. There where magic grew, opened its flowers to kind travellers and offered the fruits of your search, there is now discontent and spoiled amity. 

The forest has been overtaken by one who doesn’t know how to deliver on the promise of returning its favours. 

It’s he who you’re searching for. He, whose residency sits at the edge of these trees. The path is long and winding, though you know that acceptance is all you can rely upon when traversing it. You have done so many times before, but you never know the exact moment when the trees part and cast their gaze away from you. 

Yet here you are, bringing your mare to a halt and patting her neck absently. She doesn’t like it here, and you can’t blame her. However, your eyes have fallen upon the house you searched for, and you urge her on, a feat she is only too glad to complete. It isn’t hard to miss in any case, towering above some of the oldest, noblest trees you’ve met and asked for forgiveness. Even with the magnitude of his home, Solomon’s residency here is a secret no mere humans and only few demons know of. 

You helped him settle here, you remind yourself with regret. If only you’d taught him more closely about the residents of the woods, you might have prevented this. If only you’d been more careful advising him about bartering with the spirits, he might not have gone this far, reckless in his search for knowledge. 

You leave your horse at the edge of the clearing, walking towards the house with a certain apprehension. You had come to appreciate Solomon and did not wish to make a judgement without speaking to him first. Magic latches onto you once you draw closer, running up your legs and searching for a vessel in your body. You greet it with a smile, recognising the playful nature of the weaker energy. It intensifies with each step you take, becomes less welcoming and more depravedly persistent, but you wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t endure his simplest defences. 

Solomons magic isn’t malicious by intent nor by nature, but it isn’t the only one here. Once you reach the gate and trace the rune at the handle, the last barrier breaks down with an audible crack. You can hear talk, wafting through the open windows, the human tongue mixing with demonic ones. The demons ways of speaking are refined and highly polite for the most part, nothing akin to the grovelling snarls and jumbled grammer many less powerful witches and mages dealt with. 

This was royalty. 

You halt at the doors, unclasping your cloak. You had not expected to deal with demons of high statue tonight, but what must be done must be done. The desperation of the forest had begun to manifest within your own home, and you couldn’t stand by and let it consume the nearby landscape in a search for new beginnings. You touch the seal on your wrist and trace the lines, alerting one of his obligations, in case you needed him. 

The doors swing open at a simple whisper, foreign incantation rolling off your tongue with a raspiness you aren’t used to. Solomon loved being extravagant with his spellwork, and his knowledge of different languages, human or not, had contributed to a solid defensive system, simply because not many were well read enough to know the subtle variation in invocations, depending on which tongue one pronounced it in. You were lucky, however, knowing him adequately to expect such a thing. 

The hallway was deserted, brightly lit and clean as ever. You catch sight of a little devil, scrubbing furiously at a stain on the marble floors, pink horns glowing in the light. Making no effort to hide your presence, you ascend to the second floor, music and talk growing ever louder. They knew you were here by now, so you didn't try to control the flow of magic, to conceal your own energy mixing with theirs. 

Solomon had always been one to enjoy dramatic entrances, so the doors glide open before you can reach them yourself. Something much more sinister and much, much stronger makes its way towards you, an immense tidal wave of power that you don’t immediately recognise. It tightens your chest momentarily before releasing you, deeming you unfit to be interested in. It’s not human magic by any means, and you’re not surprised when you enter the room and find yourself face to face with four of the most threatening beings the realms have to offer. And, of course, Solomon. 

“How wonderful of you to join us, Cynthia”. The mage sounds relaxed, unfazed by your appearance. You return the greeting carefully, examining the scene before you for a long moment. 

You weren’t wrong about the tongues being ones of nobility. The demons sit on the couches and armchairs alongside Solomon are ones you recognise instantly, but most don’t know you. Barbatos faces the door directly, the beginnings of a knowing smile etched into the corners of his lips. He doesn’t seem surprised either, leant back in his chair and sipping from a silver cup. You’ve met before, many more times than you should have, but time does not have the effect it should have on either on you. It is rare not to see him in his uniform, though he doesn’t appear to be off duty, as displayed by his white gloves. 

The demon to his right is very composed, but you don’t miss the twitch of a brow, the annoyance that flashes across his crimson eyes. Lucifer is terrifying, even in the guise of a human form. You can’t tell if it’s the disturbance that irritates him, or that you aren’t obeying the urge to fall to your knees in fear, as his magic is insisting you do. You’ve been curious to meet the fallen angel Samael for some time now, and to this day, you don’t know how Solomon beat you to it so easily, by pure luck. Regardless, your stare don’t linger on him for more than a moment, turning it upon the one who sits beside him. 

The rush of magic that accompanies you locking eyes with the Prince of Hell is one that you chase involuntarily, long forgotten greed jumping at the chance to experience that power for even a split-second longer. You can’t tell if he notices, but there is an air of cordiality about him that contradicts his very being. The slight shift of colour in his eyes, the interest with which they travel across your form, exemplified by their narrowing upon finding the markings along your skin, never appear deceitful. You know better than to trust the commander of demons, though, and don’t completely give in to the compulsive submission that his authority commands. Instead, you bow your head and cast your eyes downward for a second, before shifting to look at the last of the demons. 

Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust. Him being here is not unforeseen, as the bond he shares with Solomon is no secret, written about for centuries. Few know of how it came to be, and you count yourself lucky not be one of them, considering the nature of the demon. Such is evident right now, his stare openly devouring you, hunger barely concealed within his ethereal features. In your circles, Asmodeus was rumoured to be quite cheerful, but as he sits before you, any trace of true happiness is nonexistent to you. His energy is ever present, sneaking up your back and curling itself around your legs, the scent of fresh fruit and the rainy forest embracing you. But there is little motivation behind it, aside from a sense of obligation. 

Finally, you grasp your cape and sink into a bow, unwilling to appear rude or ignorant. To meet the Prince of Hell and any of his Lords was an honour for any witch or mage, even if you hadn’t expected it this evening. You want to be formal and polite, as the last thing one would want to do is to be the reason for these demons displeasure. You notice Solomon’s lips quiver with held back laughter, enjoying your more obedient attitude a little too much for your taste. Regardless, you keep composure as you face Lord Diavolo once more. 

“Do excuse me for intruding, your highness. I came to speak with Solomon, I wasn’t expecting him to have visitors”. 

“I appreciate the gracious apology”. The Prince observes you closely as you straighten back up, eyes lingering for a moment upon the emblem that decorates your capes fastening. “Cynthia, as I have gathered”. 

“Yes, your highness”. The demonic tongue feels strange after so long of not using it, but the discomfort does not cause you to miss the shudder that runs through Solomon. Your fingers still behind your back, glad to wipe the amusement from his face. “Again, I only wish to talk to Solomon. It’s quite urgent”. 

“I remember Barbatos speaking highly of you”, Lord Diavolo remarks, leaning back against the Sofa. You shoot the butler a glance, raising a brow, but he simply nods, placing the cup onto the table before him. “How come you’ve never visited the Devildom? You have many connections there, do you not?” 

An amused chuckle slips from your lips, an action that doesn’t go unjudged by the Avatar of Pride. “And many more enemies, your highness. It is simply not my place to be. I enjoy the human world too much to give it up for either other realm, even for a second”. 

“An unusual answer”. The Prince seems content, hints of a smile appearing upon his face. “I can tell you’re not lying about the urgency. Solomon, would you-?”

“I would”. He makes no effort to stand up, simply tilting his own cup aside. His grey eyes sparkle in the dim light, surveilling you over the brim. “But I have the feeling whatever Cynthia has to say could be of interest to all of us. So, what is it?”

“If you insist”. You narrow your eyes at the mage. “Though I would appreciate you not handling me with the dignity of one of your servants, Solomon. I am not one of them”. 

Barbatos’ smile has grown wide and his gaze finds yours. His eyes are beyond mesmerising, deepened with timeless experience and wisdom. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a colour akin to his, a mixture of teal, mossy green and deep brown, reminding you of the river that runs through the forest. A place of your personal comfort, of many memories, some of them with him. The value of the bond you share is one you cannot formulate. 

“You would be wise to listen to her”. His voice is soft, yet holds more power over the room than Solomon could ever wish for. “Lucifer, you must have heard of Cynthia?”

The Avatar of Pride has not said a word until now, simply observing the situation with crossed arms. He regards you carefully, and you can tell that though you may be a source of disturbance, he wishes not to cast judgement dishonestly. His blood red glare pierces you, and you raise your chin, an unspoken challenge that he recognises with another twitch of the brow. 

“I have”. His voice is more openly commanding than his overlords. “However, under a few other names. I didn't believe you to be so avidly present in today’s time”. 

You smile in spite of the arrogance in his voice. “I’ve never left this world, and I never will, Lord Lucifer. For if I did, the cause of my visit would be a more widespread one”. 

“Then speak”, he demands. “Your reason still remains a mystery”. 

You tilt your head in acknowledgement and turn to look at Solomon. The mage still seems undaunted, but a certain curiosity shapes his expression. He’ll regret wanting you to talk in front of the others. 

“I warned you, Solomon”. You can feel the room’s flow of magic slow with your words, drawing out it’s circles around you. “I warned you, more than once, not to take more than you can give back. And yet, you’ve done exactly that”. 

The energy surrounding you swells as an image takes shape at your feet, flickering and unfocused. You didn't conjure with purpose, but your magic is not alike those of witches and mages. It isn’t bound and made compliant, as humans learn to treat their own. The nature of give and take establishes the bond between you and the forces you command, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“The forest has grown impatient with you”, you continue, casting a glance at the shapes forming before you. “You didn't ask for permission, sacrificing the protection and concealment that it provides to you for the sake of evolving your abilities. Its own magic has become hostile, Solomon. It came to me for help, because soon, it will tolerate you no more, and begin to lash out”. 

The room is silent, watching as the images illustrate your words. You’re satisfied to see the sorcerer's mask slip, any trace of calm nonchalance vanishing. Asmodeus’ expression catches your eye. The bubbly, happy demon you’d been described that he were isn’t there - not that you expected it, you had thought it to be propaganda. Absently playing with the device in his lap, his stare is hefted upon you, looking through the illusion. The curiosity seems less directed at your words than at you.

“Don’t act and pretend you didn't know”, you add, tone sharp as Solomon opens his mouth to answer. “You must know. You haven’t left this house by foot in weeks, so do not lie to me”. 

There’s a pause as Solomon lets out a small laugh, short breathed and dripping with disbelief. A certain temperamental spark gleams in his eyes as he places his cup down before him, less than gentle. There’s impatience in the air, tension growing as magic simmers with emotion. The sorcerer clears his throat, clearly trying to retain his composure as he sits back, feigning indifference. 

“I followed your rules, Cynthia”. The bite in his tone visibly piques Asmodeus’ interest, as much as the mage tries to swallow it. The demon follows his movements closely, both with sight and with mind. His particular stand of magic uncoils from your ankles, dividing and twisting along Solomon’s arms. “I did as you told me, I gave back, I bargained for agreement. I don’t understand why you come to accuse me”. 

“Something is poisoning the woods”. You can’t help but grow irritated by his demeanour, voice rising. Magic pulses beneath your skin, itching to be released. “I will have none of it. They have been my duty and my home long before you existed. There is no reason for me not to terminate your residence, as you’re the one who seems to be responsible. You know better than to make me angry, _Salomo_ ”. 

“Cynthia”. Lord Diavolo addressing you catches you off guard, so consumed by growing fury. But the Demon Prince no longer appears friendly, yellow eyes narrowed and fixed upon you. His energy draws invisible lines across the floor, roused by commotion and driving others away. “May I intervene?” 

You breathe out, reining yourself in superficially. “Of course, your highness”. 

“I do not know what knowledge you have of me and my abilities”. There is a brief moment of thoughtfulness in his tone, genuine curiosity overshadowed by stern authority. “But Iies never escape me. I can assure you, Solomon is being truthful”. 

You let out a mirthless bark of laughter, the pulse of magic beneath your palms growing more impatient by the second. “And I am to believe you?” 

The following surge of power almost causes you imbalance. Lucifer was openly displeased at your reply, growling out his words as horns begin to peak from his hair. “Do not speak so carelessly to the Prince of Hell. You should be thankful to speak to him at all”.

“Lucifer, calm yourself”. Lord Diavolo reacts before you can, inadvertently preventing the outburst lying on your tongue. “There is no need for that. Cynthia has no reason to trust me”. 

The demon is visibly unwilling to, but compiles, opting for simply glaring at you, nails digging into his own biceps. Diavolo turns back to you, and by the furrowed brows, you know nevertheless that he doesn’t agree with your tone. 

“Your concerns are understandable and real, Cynthia. You must understand, Solomon is not lying. Everything he has said is true”. 

“Then what has caused this?” Your impatience has reached a breaking point. “I did not come here to banter, I came for answers. I will only ask this once, Salomo. What has happened to the forest?” 

A beat of silence, magical flow jarred, and the sorcerer slowly rises from his chair. Something is different in his voice, his expression, usually so sustained by confidence. And you suddenly ask yourself why he wanted you to speak in front of everyone.

“You never gave me guidelines for the agreements I set up”. Solomon’s voice is dangerously quiet. “My terms were accepted, but not upheld. So I had to make sure they were”. 

Heat flares up around you, and you’re blind, speaking invocations within seconds. Bow and arrow are in your hand before he can so much as blink, but you had not accounted for two of the demons. 

The speed at which Barbatos moves is impressive within itself. You can only stare in disbelief at your arrow, now caught in his hand, inches from the sorcerer’s face. The fact that Solomon himself does not seem to understand what is going on until Asmodeus at his side, glaring at you, fills you with a certain satisfaction. But there is still unreleased fury bubbling inside of you, and you snarl in disappointment at the intervention. 

“Do not do this, Cynthia”, Barbatos warns you, dropping the arrow to the ground. His defence only serves to ignite your anger further, however. 

“How could you protect him?” Your shout echoes from the ceiling, and you nearly miss the gust of wind sweeping the room. “Do you not understand? Magic is growing weaker and weaker, and it is because of people like him! You take and manipulate and twist, until you are no longer the perpetrator! You take from the forest, you take from the creatures, from the women, the children, anything that is weaker than you, you exploit! I have had enough, King Salomo of Israel. It is time you left, and this time, I shall not help you settle anew”. 

Your magic arises with your words, protecting you from an attack you hadn’t anticipated. Asmodeus magic clashes with yours, propelled by a will that is not his own and you fight it down, feeding off the rage of the forest, come to your aid. In midst of the storm forming around you, you hardly hear your name being called, nor do you register who you direct your attack at. 

It occurs to you too late that Barbatos has no choice, obliged by pact to defend. You never intended to clash with him, and he holds his own well, hissing incantations and tracing runes in the air faster than any normal human would be able to perceive. You cannot reach Solomon, even with the forest’s most powerful forces at your aid. Your magic is strong, biting and desperate, but you’re forced to retreat, backing away step by step until you realise you’re out of the room. 

“Cynthia, find reason!” Asmodeus’ shout reaches your ear over the commotion, and you grit your teeth at his audacity. “This is not the way you will get what you want!”

“Salomo!” you roar instead, redirecting an attack into the ceiling. Cracks appear, dust crumbling down onto you, but there’s blood running down your cheek and madness edging you on. “You realise I will never stop fighting you? Not until you hear my warning, not until you leave. I will always be here. And you will regret your decisions once the fruit upon your plate turns rotten and your spells turn to ash in your mouth. Heed my warning, Salomo! Listen to me, or you shall regret it!” 

The floor has become cracked and hot, chasms opening beneath your feet. The house is splitting apart under your ministrations, forest around you feeding into your power. Finally, your magic finds what it searched for, diving through the cracks and burying itself into the ground. Your sigh of relief comes as a final signal, and Barbatos is, once again, the first to react. 

You don’t know how or when he stops fighting you. All you know is that the marking on your shoulder burns hot and that he is standing beside you, holding up a barrier. Realisation of what he’s shielding you from does not come until something - someone - lands between you and Solomon, wings flaring and voice thunderous. 

“Stop!”

Your eyes snap upwards, breath leaving you as you take in Lord Diavolo’s form. Without thinking, you obey, sudden loss of power dizzying. You barely register falling to the ground, hand pressing against the blistering stone as you steady yourself. 

You hadn’t lost control in such a way for a long time. Impulsivity was something you had always been known for, the desperation for a solution to the plague within your home overwhelming you. The magic is reluctant to retreat, steadily buzzing within you, demanding a continuation. 

You hear a throaty cough from across the hall and lift your head. Solomon is bleeding from his nose, wiping it away with grim determination as Lucifer pulls Asmodeus aside. The demon looks unharmed, but agitated, clearly calming down from the compulsion Solomon had laid upon him. 

“Solomon”. Lord Diavolo’s voice drums in your head, no longer fully calm in with his commands. “I demand of you that you follow Cynthia’s requests. You are sacrificing more than your own safety, you are sacrificing the power that joins the realms. That is something I cannot risk. So leave this place, and do not tamper with laws beyond your reach”. 

Victory fills your chest as the sorcerer nods, reluctant but finally, compliant. The Prince turns to you, and for the first time, fear rises within you at the sight of him. Those yellow eyes fix you with the stare of a predator, curiosity expanding to a much darker intention. 

“As for you”. Fear was such an unknown emotion to you that you had no way to react, simply freezing in place. “You, Cynthia, have become subject to my interest. The frenzy and power with which you defend the forest and the delicate balance of magic in this world is beyond a mighty witch. I assume I am correct with my initial judgement of your identity, am I not?”

You bow your head, closing your eyes and nodding. The implications of his words are ones you’ve always deliberately tried to hide, even if demons and angels commonly alike knew of your existence. They just never assumed you to still be alive. “Yes, your highness”. 

“Fascinating”. You feel a hand on you, and Barbatos helps you to your feet. You try to wordlessly apologize for the wounds you see on him, and he shakes his head. _No need_. “I truly thought the last of your kind died a millennium ago. Are they all masquerading in the shadows?”

Inadvertently, you smile, something that feels strange to do considering that you're facing the Prince of Hell. “I repeat myself, but we’re always going to be here. In one form or the other. And we will always protect this world and the delicate magical balance it possesses, until the day it may fade away. We may not be as powerful as we used to be, but-”

You allow your magic to come forth, to mend the wounds upon your face, to find the earth once more. It doesn’t need convincing. Seedlings spring up at your ankles, and something lands on your shoulder. You can feel the surge of energy within the bird, smile widening as it flies off no second later. Ceilings above you crack down, a hole torn to reveal your guide. Fading Moonlight illuminates the space around you, the artificial lights flickering and giving out. 

Your eyes sweep across the demons before you, and finally land on the sorcerer. There are traces of regret upon his face as he watches plants twist along the banisters and grow up the walls in rapid time, covering the marble floor with the life he took from the forest. 

You will forgive him, at some point. Given a few centuries and some lessons learned. 

“- We are still faithful to our duties as gods and goddesses”. 

\---

“Artemis!”

Your name pierces the morning atmosphere, scaring the deer that had been resting in the shade of the trees. You turn to see Barbatos hurry towards you, a gentle smile upon his face. 

“Yes?” 

“Do excuse me”. He comes to a halt before you, tail flickering behind him. “But a last thing before you leave”. 

“And that would be?” You tuck aside your cape, re-adjusting the quiver on your back and look at him expectantly. 

“Our plans regarding the early spring hunt have not changed, I assume?” 

A burst of laughter leaves you, and he joins in, the sound ringing through the air. “Of course not! I doubt there is a thing that could between it. And bring Satan, as an apology for tonight. I must have drove him restless with my constant near-summoning”. 

Barbatos nods, hands clasped behind his back and watching as you swing yourself up onto your horse. There is a fondness in his eyes that the demon usually hides, a testimony to your bond. “Until then, Artemis. I’ll meet you at the river”. 

You give your mare a signal, facing the dying moon, and glance over your shoulder one last time. “Until then, my friend. I eagerly await our hunt”.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos mean the world to me xx Love you guys, take care and stay healthy!
> 
> Tumblr: @thedemonstherapist, come chat!  
> I do requests and post short fics, headcanons ect. when I don't have the time or mindset to work on longer stuff!


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